Burning of Five Hundred Worlds (IX)

Today, Valentius Dollo accepted some things he would never have accepted before. These things sound like a challenge to his reason, and what's worse, if you want to understand them, you have to look at them without reason.

This was an impossible task for an Ultramarines, but fortunately, the Mercy Vulkan helped him out.

Of course, the way this help was provided was neither gentle nor exactly to Valentius's liking. But the result was still something to celebrate, after all, Vulkan had not died.

No, correction: He was resurrected.

Correction again: He returned from the dead, and his lost eye returned as well.

"Sir—" Invictarii laboriously put down the Dataslate in his hand. "Our instruments and doctors show that you have fully recovered."

Vulkan glanced at him, and after a long while, nodded.

His massive body still had bulging muscles, and his once bloodied skin and sunken chest had returned to normal. Apart from his somewhat numb eyes, he was almost no different from when he was alive.

No, that's not right. Valentius corrected himself again in his heart. The Lord of Drakes is alive now. Yes, that's right, he's alive, and he has never died.

Okay, he died at least once, but he came back to life and sits on the Throne!

Valentius blinked numbly, dismissing those emotions.

A few seconds later, filled with awe at witnessing the dead come back to life, he asked, "Is there anything you need?"

Is Perturabo there?

"Here I am."

"Could you please ask him to come over? Also, I'd like to inquire about the current situation of my legion?"

Valentius immediately took a deep breath—a breath that could even be described as a gasp of fear, considering what he was about to say. Seeing his reaction, Vulkan smiled wryly and raised his hand to stop him.

"Never mind, Invictarii." He shook his head. "I believe in their resilience. Please tell those who are still alive that I will go to see them as soon as possible."

"I understand," Valentius replied heavily, bowed, and turned to leave the room.

About ten minutes later, he returned with Perturabo, walking slowly, as an elderly woman was following behind them. Vulkan spotted them through the glass.

He stood up awkwardly and wrapped himself in the white cloth— the Lord of Drakes was somewhat annoyed, wishing he had asked Valentius to find him some clothes. He hadn't expected Tarasha Euten to come.

The door slid open slowly, and his visitor arrived as promised. Perturabo was the quickest, almost impatient. He rushed to Vulkan, arms outstretched, and for a moment, Vulkan thought he wanted to give him a hug.

But he didn't.

The Lord of Iron calmly lowered his hand, then raised it again, then lowered it again. Finally, he chose to pat Vulkan on the shoulder.

"I'm so glad you're back." He paused. "Again."

"You knew I'd come back," Vulkan said with a smile. "I'll keep coming back until it's all done."

"Vulkan— " On the other side, a woman leaning on a cane frowned and greeted him. However, she quickly turned her attention to him. " -Valentius, my Invictarii lord, why didn't you even find him a change of clothes?"

Oculus's Invictarii coughed awkwardly.

"It's nothing, madam," Vulkan helped him out. "I hadn't expected this myself."

"But that's still very impolite," Euten insisted. "It's really a—excuse me, sir."

The housekeeper sighed. "I should let you talk to each other first."

"It's alright," Perturabo said hoarsely, his reaction causing Vulkan to glance at him with slight surprise.

"In a way, if Roboute Guilliman weren't in Macragge, then you'd be a part of him, or at least a spokesperson, Tarasha Euten. So you can speak freely in a conversation like this."

"Thank you for your magnanimity, my lord." Euten bowed slightly. "But I would like to inquire about the follow-up to what you just said. What exactly happened to Lord Mortarion?"

She did it on purpose; she politely got Perturabo to say those words first, and then asked about it, Vulkan thought.

He had only met Tarasha Euten a few times, but that was enough to make a deep impression on him. She was a person who got straight to the point and would never overlook right or wrong because of the other person's status.

Vulkan believed this was a skill she had honed through her long collaboration with Roboute Guilliman. Few mortals could speak their minds and remain true to themselves when facing the Primarch.

Many more people will become sycophants because of their innate power and influence, making them repulsive.

"He was tortured," Perturabo said calmly. "That's it, ma'am, and then he resisted until he died."

"But how did you escape?" Euten asked sharply. "May the great Lord Mortarion rest in peace—but if things were really as simple as you say, how did you escape?"

"Do you really have to get to the bottom of this?" Perturabo looked at him coldly.

His gaze was terrifying, enough to destroy any fortress, Euten did not yield an inch. She gripped her cane tightly, not taking a single step back. Valentius moved two steps closer to her with concern, worried about the Lord of Iron's infamous and terrible temper, known throughout the Imperium.

"I've always been this way, Lord Perturabo, if necessary," Euten said slowly. "I can get to the bottom of things at any time, and I know it's annoying, but I must get the truth."

She paused, and even took a step forward to meet Perturabo's gaze.

"And if you cannot bear it, I suggest you tell me as soon as possible—because only by telling me the truth and another way can I stop asking, sir."

"Very good." Perturabo clenched his fist and slowly exhaled a breath of stale air. "Vulkan, tell her."

"Hmm--ah?" The Lord of Drakes looked over in surprise.

"Tell her what she wants to know." The Lord of Iron turned calmly. "You heard me, I don't want to talk to this little Macragge for the time being."

Vulkan looked at him with difficulty, then at Tarasha Euten. He even tried to ask Valentius for help, and the Ultramarines tried to speak up, but were forced to stop by the cane raised by the "little Macragge".

"Let him speak, Invictarii Hero!" Euten snapped. "He's so tall, and I'm so short!"

"What exactly are you trying to say, madam?" Valentius looked at him blankly.

"I don't know," Euten said, his eyes still fixed on Vulkan.

The Lord of Drakes sighed helplessly, his expression finally changing. Sadness and grief instantly crept up his spine, making him appear several times older. Seeing his outward display of emotion, even the previously aggressive Euten changed his expression.

Several complex emotions, including sympathy and reluctance, flashed across her face, and she gripped her cane tightly until her fingers turned white. But she still did not let go.

After a long while, the blacksmith from Nocturne began to recount his brother's death in a low voice.

"Mortarion has been resisting," he whispered. "That thing raised his offspring from the dead, forced them to act with plague, and used corrupting forces to make them speak and urge him to kneel."

"He enveloped him in plague, locked him inside, and tormented him incessantly. That thing knew him perfectly, and while tormenting Mortarion, it spoke with pinpoint accuracy his fears, hopes, and everything in his heart."

"I could tell from Mortarion's reaction that what He said was true. It was an utter disgrace, but also terrifying. How could He know Mortarion so well?"

"He humiliated him, then tortured him to the point of near death, every word shattering his bones and causing his flesh to grow back. I tried to save him, but I couldn't move at all. Then, that thing began to tempt him, trying to make Him submit."

"But he didn't," Perturabo said, his back to the crowd.

"He kept resisting, which infuriated the thing; we could hear His anger. He pretended not to care, but we all heard it, and so did Mortarion. He laughed mockingly at the thing amidst the plague, and then He completely tore off His mask of hypocrisy."

Vulkan closed his eyes.

"That was the most terrifying, yet most Dreadnought scene I've ever witnessed," he told Euten and Valentius. "Mortarion's form changed under the power of that thing; his back began to bulge, and his face gradually contorted and turned deathly pale."

"The whispers I'd been hearing all along erupted at that moment, along with the desecrated Death Guard, their corpses kneeling. They began to chant Mortarion's name along with those whispers, bestowing upon him a blasphemous and filthy title: the Corrupt Prince."

"And Mortarion— " The Lord of Drakes suddenly smiled. "—I don't know how to describe him, but in that instant, he seemed like a completely different person."

"His body transformed back in that instant, his armor gleaming as new, his weapon held securely in his hand. He looked at us, his spotless face serene."

"I saw a dark, cloud-like light flash in his eyes, and then he raised his right hand. In that instant, the gun—the gun called the Lantern —transformed into Thunder from the sky, shattering everything. When the lightning dissipated, he, that thing, and Horus were all gone."

"The bodies of the Death Guard settled, but the ship began sounding alarms, and the readings showed anomalies. Then, we decided to risk a warp jump out of the Warp."

Vulkan opened his eyes and sighed.

"The navigators and Librarian members almost all died for this project, but as things stand, they died for a reason."

Tarasha Euten silently raised her cane and bowed. Only Valentius recognized her gesture; it was an ancient Illyrium custom used to mourn heroes.

"May he rest in peace," she said.

"Unless we kill all the traitors," Perturabo said coldly, still with his back to everyone.

This chapter is 3,000 words, totaling 10,000 words. I owe 5,000 words, which I will repay tomorrow.